What Lies Beneath
by Browlax
Summary: Jason has been trying with his best effort to find his long lost necklace. Then, on one empty night, he spots a young woman with his precious treasure. As he finds it, he remembers the good memories of his mother.


The rusted, steel machete in the hand of a killer glistened into the moon's bright shimmer as there was a reflection of a young woman, who was at least in her early twenty's. In her blue eyes reflected the fear she suffered. As the moist, warm strains of liquid rolled down her cheeks, her body trembled to her knees. Her eyes squinted as the tears increased and noticed the killer's huge appearance.

Everyone knew his name. Jason Voorhees. His past was unstable and very unfortunate. As a young boy, he suffered in the lake of Camp Crystal Lake. Everyone knew he had a deformity. It's what he was known for, and he did not appreicate it in his life. Jason wasn't just any 'killer'. He was a beast. A strong force. A monster who stood bold and broad. He had a built appearance and was in the form of a football player and was about seven foot. His tattered clothes revealed the sections of his bare fleash such as his chest and his unforgettable scars of pain from his horrid past. His dark boots were chipped and dirty with mostly mud stains at the toe end. What was most important to him was his mask.

Jason used his dirty, white hockey mask to hide his face. His deformity. He did not want the whole world to know what his facial appearance looked like. It was like he was simply _terrified _to reveal his features. They were _always_ concealed.

Jason's breathing was heavy and deep, for the girl could hear the shaky huffs and puffs. The moonlight shimmered behind him, making his form pop and stand out. From the lower part of the machete to the razor-sharp blade came a white shine. He felt a powerful sensation of adrenaline and excitement course through his veins. As his matchete swung forth to the endangered woman, his heart began to pound in his chest.

"Jason!", the woman cried as she wanted to end the suffering.

The machete stopped.

His heartrate calmed, as did his intense adrenaline. The feeling of his dirty fingernails into the flesh of his palms ceased. His thick fingers loosened around his holster. The woman wiped away a tiny tear underneath her moist cheeks as she pulled an ancient necklace from her neck. Jason tilted his head, a confused look growing underneath his precious mask.

The woman clicked the lock with her slender fingernail, which revealed something so precious to Jason's dark soul. His mother. He could feel his pulse pound in his fingers and wrists. He looked into the picture of his mother holding her dear son in her arms. That young boy was Jason himself.

He felt as if he yearned to cry. The picture had such an effect on him he didn't have a clue for what it was he felt. Never in his adulthood had he felt something strike him. The feeling was powerful, much like his own strength was.

The woman's pedaled lips began to spread as her mouth began to open.

"I-"

She was cut off by Jason's dirty, cut fingers touching the sides of her neck. At his rough fingertips, he felt her pulse race, and she felt his own pound against her neck as well. It was a moment of drama. Of sorrow. Of silence. Of confusion.

Jason had a long moment of not blinking. The woman noticed a pizar look in his brown eyes and watched his eyebrows cross. She was as silent as a mouse as he had his hands on her.

"I b-beg of you," she stuttered frantically with her eyes shut tightly, "please leave me alone!"

For a long moment, Jason froze like an icile. He felt as if his enormous hands had a powerful force in between them. His thick fingers curled into fists, and he strained so hard the woman thought he was harming himself.

The night of Camp Crystal Lake was always chilly and cold; Jason had gotten used to the feeling of the gush of the cold breeze sail across his face, but the woman hadn't. Her small hands slid up and down on her upper arms. Jason watched her gestures as he remained frozen, continously locking his eyes on the necklace.

With his right hand, he curled it around the bottom of the necklace, squeezing it as his atmosphere went blank. The sensation continued to wrap around him emotionally. His eyes squeezed shut as he put his free hands behind the woman's neck, pushing the minature lock of the necklace.

It feel into his hands.

The woman had a expression that exposed her thoughts and feelings as he removed the charm off of her.

As Jason put all of his minor focus on the precious treasure, the woman silently crawled away from him, her feet leading her out of the dirty camp as she felt relief once she knew the man did not recognize her presence missing.

As Jason trailed his eyes upwards, he finally recognized her presence was missing.

Another one slipped away.

Getting on his sore feet, Jason limped with his hand behind his back for support. He placed the necklace in his empty pocket and slowly and quietly walked to his cabin. In his cabin, he sat the charm beside his mother's decomposed head.

The memories that rushed in his mind.

He tried his hardest to shrug those terrible, painful memories off his shoulders, for it was stuck to him like crazy glue. His eyes squeezed tightly and his concealed lips began to quiver. He remembered his mother's face. Her kind smile. Her compassion for him as he grew up as a young boy.

When his mother was around, he felt like he wasn't obscure around her, unlike the others. His mother was his. His savior. His queen. His everything.

Jason learned how to be on his very own and stay strong for many years. Life was different without his mother.

Then, Jason thought of the great, memorable moments with her. The laughter. The love. The jubilance.

Under his mask his grinned, which was unusal for him as his eyes trailed down to the significant necklace he once wore whenever he was only at the age of eleven.


End file.
